Embracing Fate: A Captive Hearts Novel Page 13

  Did their boss know about it?

  I bet he knew something like this happened from time to time. It would be a simple matter to shake things up.

  Like the gangs in Georgia’s prison, the fatal error of underestimating me cost two men their lives. I may be a spoiled, rich white boy, but I was anything but little; nor was I meek. They woke the beast, and I was ready to let it run free.

  But what was I to do with Clara?

  I rode in on Jake’s Harley and she was in no condition to ride behind me. In her current state, the poor thing would tumble off the back of the bike. Or worse.

  Several men sat in the lobby upstairs. They turned as one, eyes widening, as I carried sweet Clara toward the exit.

  I stopped and let the full intensity of my heated glare spear each and every one of them. Men gulped. They shifted in their seats. They knew this was only the beginning of the shitstorm to come.

  “I need a car.” I turned my attention to the man closest to me. “Keys. Now!”

  “Yes, Mr. Davenport.” He jumped to his feet and rushed to a desk.

  “Tell your boss I will be having a word with him, and if you’re smart…” I allowed my attention to pan across the room, taking in each man in turn. “If you’re smart, you’ll consider who you’d rather work for. This operation is officially shut down until new management takes over.”

  Several low coughs filled the room. There was no need to explain who new management would be.

  The man brought me a set of keys. “Do you need a driver, sir?”

  I had thought to take her myself. Where? I wasn’t really sure. None of this had been planned. I couldn’t take her to Stripes, but there was one place I could take a woman who had been sold into slavery.

  At least this man appeared to understand who was now in charge. One of the other dumbfucks might have just tossed me the keys.

  “Yes. We’re headed out to the country.” I would take her to The Edge and then attempt to recover what I could. I fucking hated everything about this, but at least Clara was under my protection now.

  Which sucked.

  I now become her tormentor. I preferred my role as savior.

  Chapter 15

  I floated in his arms, barely aware of what was happening as he carried me outside and gently lowered me into the back seat of a car. He climbed in beside me, overwhelming me with his presence.

  Dark, warm, inviting, and exceptionally violent. On top of his intoxicating aroma, the sharp tang of copper flooded my senses.

  Blood.

  There was so much blood.

  He killed two men. That voice in my head whispered to me.

  You belong to him now. It whispered, not with fear but with something else.

  Yes. I know.

  Something pulsed between us. Joining us on the deepest, most primal level where dark urges took root. His masculine strength bound together with an undeniable dominance which radiated off him in waves.

  I felt that power deep in my bones and my body answered. I feared those other men— lesser creatures. But him? He pulled at me with an irresistible force.

  I belonged to him.

  A whimper escaped me. I always thought I was strong. That I could handle anything life threw at me. I’d never been so wrong. But then, not once in a million years would I ever envision myself abducted, sold, and nearly raped—all within the span of an hour.

  My Monster spoke, a deep rumbling sound which wrapped around me like a warm blanket. “You’re safe, sweet Clara. You’re safe.”

  There was tenderness there, layered on top of something else I wasn’t ready to accept. This man wanted me. He craved me. I sensed it in the roughness of his voice and in the way his hand trembled as he swept the hair off my face.

  If I kept my eyes squeezed shut, if I didn’t look at him, then I could believe this nightmare wasn’t real.

  Except it was.

  His rough fingers wrapped around my arm. “It’s time to sleep, sweet angel.”

  Resisting his touch didn’t cross my mind. I should fight, but I also knew there wasn’t any point. There was no reason to add to my injuries. Being smart began with picking my battles. This wasn’t one I could win.

  Something wet and cold swept across my skin. Then a sharpness pricked my flesh. Oblivion took me with the sting of a needle, and I welcomed the dark embrace of nothingness.

  While I floated in a dreamless sleep, I prayed when I woke—if I woke—that I would have the strength to deal with what came next.

  What I didn’t expect was a luxurious bedchamber filled with fluffy white fabric on nearly every surface. That was how I woke, floating in a sea of white.

  White silken sheets brushed against my skin. A snowy comforter covered me. White lace formed the shape of my nightgown. Even the panties I’d been dressed in were of the purest white. Slippers with fluffy white fur waited for my feet to slip inside on the floor beside the bed. I stared at the luxury surrounding me, knowing I most certainly had to be dreaming.

  But I wasn’t. The pinch of my bladder and the hunger stirring in my gut reminded me I was very much alive.

  I got out of bed and wandered over bleach-white wooden floors to push aside heavy white drapes, where I stared out onto a stark white landscape.

  Snow.

  Rugged mountains with snow covered peaks extended upward from a pristine valley blanketed in white. A quick check of my surroundings revealed several things. Other than a robe and matching towels, there was no other evidence of clothing to be found. No jeans, shirts, sweaters, jackets or boots which might aid in an escape.

  Of the three doors leading out of the room, one led to an empty closet. The second opened to a palatial bathroom filled with a soaking tub replete with Jacuzzi jets and a steam shower. The final door didn’t budge, leaving me locked inside.

  Beside the bed, a white tablet waited for me. Surprisingly, it opened to my fingerprint and had been filled with a wide assortment of books. Although internet capable, the tablet did not connect to the outside world. I was a prisoner with no idea who my jailor might be.

  Scratch that. I knew my jailor. I’d seen him kill two men. But I didn’t know who he might be.

  That terror which had swirled in my gut was oddly absent. An odd calmness filled me instead. There was more to fear. I wasn’t in denial about my current state.

  I waited for a time, trying to decide how long I had been unconscious.

  What I should do next?

  When banging on the door failed to return an answer, I took another survey of my room and discovered the cameras.

  Flipping the bird to my captor came to mind, but I didn’t know the rules of my new existence. Enticing his anger didn’t seem wise. Several assumptions had to be made, and I needed to decide how I would deal with what was obvious.

  There was no privacy. I checked the bathroom and the closet. Every move I made would be recorded. That included using the facilities. This could be something which bugged me, but I chose from this minute forward to only worry about things I could control. If I didn’t have privacy, then I wouldn’t worry about modesty.

  With a pinching in my bladder, I headed to the bathroom. If he wanted to watch me pee, so be it. I would pee for him.

  The last shower I had taken had been full of icy needles. If I could pee for an audience, then I could take a shower in front of one too. It would be vital to no longer fear my nakedness. Therefore, shyness would not dictate my actions, not that I would put myself on display. I would act as normal as possible.

  Easier said than done.

  I found myself trying to cover my breasts and the triangle between my legs. Knowing perverted eyes watched me, my instincts were difficult to overcome.

  But a steam shower?

  I could get into that. That itchy, crawly sensation was coming back. On the fringes of my mind, its relentless arrival couldn’t be ignored. A nice hot shower should help with the worst of those itchy nerves.

  To my surprise, and pleasure, the bathr
oom had been fully stocked. I took advantage of the luxury and washed away my fear from the auction, and the blood from what came after. Whether those wretched men were still a part of my existence didn’t matter. Every moment without them, and without him, would be one I enjoyed.

  None of that kept me from huddling in the corner of that shower. As steam billowed all around me, tears spilled down my face as I questioned everything. Time passed and with it the decision to leave the comforting warmth of the shower could no longer be delayed.

  With more regret than I thought possible, I turned off the water and opened the door. Thick steam billowed out, and I was surprised when there was no fog on the mirror, but then I remembered how steam showers worked.

  I’d been in a very private bubble behind that glass door. Perhaps that shower was the only private place I had left?

  A quick glance failed to reveal the lace nightgown and panties I’d left folded on the bench beside the tub. My robe had been lifted off the floor and draped over the side of the tub.

  My insides squeezed thinking someone had been in here while I wept on the floor of the shower. Fear tried to flood my veins, knowing he had been that close without my knowledge, but I stamped down that emotion and replaced it with something else. I would not allow fear to rule me. Instead, I resolved to maintain an awareness of my environment at all times.

  Towels and the robe. That was all I found. Knowing cameras watched my every move, I dried off with an economy of movement and wrapped the robe around my body. The mirror was something I tried to avoid. If I spent time in front of it, examining the bruising of my body, then he would see too.

  Being watched, or rather knowing I was being watched, had the fine hairs on my arms lifting and set a tingling at the base of my neck. There was an unopened toothbrush waiting by the sink, along with a new tube of toothpaste. I was nearly a hundred percent certain neither of those had been there previously.

  From the film covering my teeth, and not knowing how many days it had been since I had brushed them, I took advantage of the luxury. Whoever bought me seemed to want to make me as comfortable as possible.

  I would indulge that whim. If my comfort mattered to him then what else could I make him care about? After brushing, I placed the toothbrush in the holder and glanced into the mirror. Closing my eyes, I mouthed thank you.

  I don’t know why I did that. It just slipped out.

  Revulsion rippled through me, but was it weak to allow myself to appreciate the luxury he chose to surround me with? Pamper me with? Was it wrong not to be thankful for the smallest things?

  Would that not reciprocate more of the same behavior?

  I hoped so.

  These were interesting questions. That itching beneath my skin returned.

  Never being one who used drugs, I knew nothing except what I’d seen on television and read online. This had to be withdrawal. For whatever reason the thought I might be withdrawing terrified me more than facing the man who bought me. Perhaps because of the stories I’d heard—about how rough it could be or how gripping the hunger took over the mind—I feared my ability to fight that on top of everything else.

  When I reentered the bedroom, I pulled up short at the small cart filled with food. My mouth watered as I approached, and my stomach rumbled.

  I glanced around the room and found one of the many cameras. Again, I mouthed thank you and sat down to eat. Not that I ate much. Between my circumstances and the nausea rising in my belly—from what I had finally decided had to be withdrawal—I managed only a few bites.

  Where was my captor? Why hadn’t he revealed himself? Someone had been in the room. Despite the cart full of food, the bed had been made, and a white dress placed over the downy comforter. Either this man had a maid, or he was taking exceptional care of me himself.

  Was it restraint which kept him from yanking me out of the shower for our first nonconsensual act? Or, something else? And who would willingly work for a man who kept a woman as prisoner?

  Did it matter?

  I could allow my mind to head down countless paths, but what purpose would that serve?

  Strength, Clara!

  I had to continually force myself to remember my resolve. This man would not defeat me.

  After breakfast, I took the dress and went to the walk-in closet to change. It made no sense. There were cameras in the empty closet as well as everywhere else, but it mattered to me.

  I shed the robe, slipped on the dress, and took time to hang the robe on one of the empty hooks. With nothing else to do, I retrieved the small tablet and curled up in front of the window looking out onto a stark white landscape.

  When I powered the tablet on and pressed my thumb to the fingerprint reader, I gave a tiny gasp at the message on the screen.

  You’re welcome.

  The tablet fell out of my hands, and I jumped as if I’d been bitten by a snake.

  Chapter 16

  Knowing I was being watched and having it confirmed by a message on the tablet were two completely different things. I thought I had things under control, but that text was a harsh reminder that I belonged to another now.

  Did he respond because I thanked him?

  It had to be, but why was he bothering to answer me? My immediate reaction to throw the tablet against the wall revealed weakness I couldn’t afford. Instead, I swiped away the message and opened up the library of books.

  It took some time, but eventually a story drew me in. My first selections were romances, but all of those women met their One and fell in love.

  I had been abducted and sold. Reading about their perfect romance twisted my insides. I went for an adventure instead. Maybe I would pick something up about how to escape. Or at the very least, how to manipulate the one bold enough to think he could own me.

  Fatigue eventually forced me from the window and I curled up beneath the downy comforter. It was my hope sleep would pull at me, and for a time it did. Eventually, however, I woke with cramps in my belly, sweat dripping out of every pore, and whole body tremors shaking my limbs.

  I tossed back the covers with a groan and forced myself to sit. Slipping on the furry slippers, I made it to my feet before I realized I was no longer alone.

  It seemed to me that I blinked and he was there, standing in front of the picture window.

  He appeared as a righteous angel who had come to condemn me to hell.

  Light from the setting of the sun filtered through the window and cast a halo around his imposing frame. A crest of gold encircled his head and shadows obscured his face. He stood well over six-feet tall, and while I couldn’t make out his features, his broad frame gave the impression of a man well acquainted with being in control.

  “Good evening, Clara.”

  The resonance of his voice pulled at me, deep and melodious, it held more strength of purpose than I had in my entire being. I had been a fool to think I could stand against a man such as this.

  I gripped at the comforter, as if that could help me. This was it. The moment I’d been dreading had arrived.

  When he stepped away from the window, I sucked in a deep breath. Instead of coming at me, he went to the side of the window and dropped the drapes.

  “You’ll want to close the drapes at night. It helps to keep in the heat.”

  It was as if warm chocolate laced his voice with tonal undertones designed to soothe away my fears. I leaned forward, needing him to continue with that mesmerizing voice. I could almost believe this wasn’t hell.

  As the shades lowered, his features came into view, and I sucked in yet another breath. Righteous angel couldn’t be a more accurate description of this man. The pure jade green of his eyes stared at me with warmth and hunger, yet simmered with a profound sadness. The way his eyes creased at the corners gave him a brooding squint, and the planes of his face had surely been crafted by angels.

  The force of his will blazed through him and struck me speechless. He may have shut out the fading sun, but the power behind his eyes, and
his broad stance, combined into one undeniable force.

  He was handsome enough to be swoon-worthy, but wore it with a ruggedness and pain I couldn’t place. He even smelled amazing. I found myself breathing deeply through my nose for a scent of his sun-kissed brilliance.

  “Welcome to your new home.” The deep rumble of his voice turned my stomach inside out.

  My salivary glands went into overdrive, flooding my mouth as my stomach rebelled. Covering my mouth with my hand, my eyes widened as the inevitability of what came next had me racing to the bathroom.

  He turned, a look of confusion on his face.

  The entire contents of my stomach emptied into the toilet as I retched, and I barely noticed the warmth of his hand as he pulled back the strands of my hair.

  “I was afraid of this,” he said.

  I didn’t want his hands on me, but the violent retching wasn’t something which could be controlled. This was my body revolting as it craved something I didn’t have.

  I was withdrawing from an evil drug.

  A part of me was thankful for him holding my hair out of the way. Another part filled with revulsion having him so close. Another piece spoke on a level I refused to acknowledge.

  I shut up all the pieces and parts and gripped the porcelain edges of the toilet until there was nothing left in my stomach to throw up.

  To say I was a mess would be to minimize my current state, but one thought ran through my mind. He wouldn’t want to defile me like this. Would he?

  Was it possible I had a reprieve?

  He left me hanging over the toilet as I wiped at my mouth. A sour taste coated my tongue, making me want to retch all over again. Instead, I grabbed for a tissue and wiped away the spittle and vomit. Tears ran down my cheeks. I wish I could have said they were from him, but it was simply my body’s natural reaction to throwing up. Then I heard it, running water, and my entire body froze.

  A glance over my right shoulder revealed him bending over the tub, testing the water as it poured inside. My gut clenched and my body trembled because I knew what he intended. Too weak to fight, I did nothing as he came over and lifted me off the floor. He brought me to the tub and supported me with incredible gentleness while he set me on my feet.